


Bouncy Castles Don't Count

by hull1984



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-03
Updated: 2012-06-03
Packaged: 2017-11-06 18:43:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/421951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hull1984/pseuds/hull1984
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco has been banished to the park for the summer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bouncy Castles Don't Count

**Author's Note:**

> Written in 2007, when, during an afternoon at the park with my children I found myself imagining what would happen if it was Malfoy manning the bouncy castle. It helped to pass the time.

Ron leant back against the barrier between the castle and the slide. He folded his arms across his chest and grinned. This was going to be good. It was just a matter of time.

“You! Yes, you there, with the unfortunate haircut!” Malfoy pointed accusingly at a boy of about four years old who had just reached the top of the slide. “Get back down here NOW!”

Ron nodded to himself. Oh, yeah. Definitely just a matter of time before Malfoy got himself murdered by an incensed parent. Beaming happily, he stared over at where the skinny blond was still yelling loudly.

~~~~

The little boy’s face crumpled and the tears were already in full flow by the time he reached the bottom step. Malfoy was not impressed.

“Oh, for Gods sake!” He looked around in an aggrieved manner. “Does anyone own _this?_ ” He jabbed a thumb in the direction of the now grubby-faced, crying child.

His raised voice and angry gesture accomplished what the child’s own baleful wails had so far failed to do, and one of the throng of women standing behind the barrier nudged another. Nodding indolently in the boy’s direction she said, “Michelle, I think he means your Kyle. “

Thus alerted to her offspring’s distress, Michelle leapt into action. With a loud put upon sigh, she rolled her eyes and dropped her cigarette end onto the grass. She crushed it with the heel of her bejewelled flip flop, hitched up her leggings and strolled towards her sobbing son.

Malfoy took one look at her, looked even more appalled and mumbled, “Christ, why am I not surprised?” as he rubbed his hand across his eyes.

~~~~

Ron winced as he waited for the woman’s inevitable angry outcry. 

The kid's mum, meanwhile, had finally reached her child and was standing next to him, looking bored as the lad continued to cry miserably.

Ron shook his head in wonderment at the woman’s apparent unconcern.

Bloody hell, he thought, the little tit’s actually going to get away with it this time.

He watched in horrified fascination as the mother in question grabbed hold of the boy’s arm and spat out a nasty, “For fuck’s sake, Kyle, grow up.”

Grow up? Ron was disgusted, the poor kid must have been all of four.

Ron started to step forward, unable to hold his tongue in the face of such vile behaviour, but he found himself halted by Malfoy’s next words. 

"Grow up? That’s rich coming from you.” Malfoy’s lips were drawn up into a sneer of utter disgust - Ron recognised it from the day they were presented with their burgundy aprons - and he took a step towards the mother and her still sobbing child. 

The woman had stopped dragging the wailing boy towards the exit and was standing looking at Malfoy in shock, but before she could say anything Malfoy had given her a swift, contemptuous once-over before declaring loudly, “Those leggings alone clearly belong on someone at least ten years younger, not to mention three stones lighter. Do perhaps the words 'mutton' and 'lamb' mean anything to you, madam?”

Ron dropped his head into his hands and groaned. He had a funny feeling he knew exactly where this was going.

~~~~

“Oi, Weasley!” 

Ron ignored him.

“Weasley!”

Ron resisted the urge to turn around.

“Oh, for fucks sake, you ginger cretin!”

Oops, that could be a problem.

“WHAT? Oh, for God's sake, madam, I was not referring to your ginger poppet, I assure you. I was referring to that big ginger git over there.”

Ron winced and prepared for the inevitable.

“Yes, yes, yes! Of course, you want to report me to my manager. Here, I’ve had a card made up. But let me just say here and now, if your child is going to persist in this abomination - against all dictates of good taste I might add - and remain stubbornly ginger, then he, and indeed you, must learn to deal with the consequences OF HIS UNHOLY ABERRATION!”

This last was shouted at the back of the rapidly retreating woman as she headed determinedly for Mr Filch’s office.

Ron traced the route with his eyes; there was a definite groove beginning to form in the ground. Shaking his head slowly, he tried not to feel too responsible this time, while failing horribly to hide his grin.

~~~~ 

Turned out Filch was nothing if not optimistic. He decided swapping them around would work.

Right.

Because Malfoy timing children not to exceed their allotted five minutes on the bouncy castle was _so_ much better than him making sure each tyke had only three rides on the bouncy slide.

Ron shook his head; talk about car wreck waiting to happen.

~~~~ 

Thirty seven minutes later, he flinched as the door to Filch’s office opened abruptly and a very sullen Draco Malfoy walked out.

He raised a questioning eyebrow.

“The ice-cream kiosk.” 

Ron didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

~~~~

“This is all your fault!”

Ron paused mid-scoop and glanced over his shoulder. Malfoy was still sulking in the back, arms folded moodily across his chest.

“Really,” he said, nodding once at the pouting blond, before turning his head back round and continuing with his task of scooping strawberry ice cream into a waffle cone. Smiling, he handed the finished cone to a waiting woman who passed it to the older of two small girls; the younger one already nose deep in her mint choc chip.

“Sorry about him,” he said, tipping his head back in the direction of the fuming boy behind him. 

The smaller child stopped inhaling her ice cream and frowned over at Malfoy. Then, turning towards Ron, she demanded, “Why? What’s wrong with him?”

Her mother looked momentarily flustered before responding with a mortified, “Nothing’s wrong with him, Emily.” At the child’s clear look of scepticism, she glanced quickly at Malfoy and added, “He’s just thinking.”

She smiled apologetically at Ron as he handed over her change. “Kids,” she said, rolling her eyes. “They’d get you shot.”

Ron grinned back. “Don’t worry about it,” he replied. Then, turning to Emily, he leant forward and said conspiratorially, “Actually he’s constipated.”

The little girl frowned back at him while her mother and elder sister started to snigger. As they walked away, Ron could clearly hear her asking, “Mummy, what does constipated mean?”

He was still laughing when the choc ice hit him in the back of the head.

~~~~

Ron was lying on his back on the grass waiting for the slide to deflate. It was nearly dusk and the sky was turning from dark grey to a deep, inky blue. 

Most of the guys hated this job, complaining that it was boring, took too long and finishing last meant last to the pub. But Ron liked it; liked lying there staring at the sky and watching as the day collapsed slowly into night. There was just something very satisfying in watching the unwieldy inflatables quietly leak out their air, in a slow steady hiss, until once again they were nothing more than lifeless sheets of plastic, ready to be folded up and stored away for another day. 

“Bastard.”

Draco, it seemed, did not share Ron's enthusiasm.

Ron sat up, pulling his knees to his chest before draping his arms across them and grinning over at the pacing blond. “Anyone I know, Malfoy?” 

Malfoy stopped walking and turned to look at him. “Filch!” he spat out. “That bastard has had it in for me since day one. Why else would he team me up with you?”

Ron grinned as he stood up and walked over to Malfoy. “Maybe he thought I’d be able to keep you out of trouble,” he replied, with a wink. He couldn’t help but laugh at the stricken look that broke out on the other boy’s face at that. “Yeah, I know," he said. "What was he thinking?”

Malfoy’s sudden neighing laugh startled him. Ron had never heard Malfoy laugh in the whole two weeks that they’d been paired to work together (although he had come close that day the little Chinese boy hadn’t cleared the mat quite quickly enough and had subsequently been flattened by the biggest seven year old Ron had ever seen).

It was quite a shock. There was no two ways about it - Malfoy sounded like a dying donkey. 

“Shit, Malfoy.” Ron couldn’t help his wide-eyed look of horror. “Do you have a license for that laugh?”

“Fuck you, Weasley!” Malfoy stopped laughing and a scowl began to spread across his face.

Well, Ron couldn’t resist that. “I’ll want dinner and a show first,” he said, with a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows.

Malfoy looked nonplussed for a moment before shaking his head and letting out another hideous snort of laughter; the donkey was back and definitely on its last legs.

Ron grinned and flopped down onto the edge of the bouncy castle. When he’d stopped bouncing, he laid back and placed his hands behind his head.

“Hey, Malfoy!” He lifted his head to look at the other boy. “Aren’t you supposed to be deflating this thing?”

Malfoy stopped laughing abruptly and returned to his habitual scowling. 

Ron thought he looked cute. 

“Yes, well,” the scowl deepened. “When I’m ready.”

Was that a blush? Ron bit his lip, fighting the smirk that was threatening to break loose. 

“Erm, you do _know_ how to do it don’t you, Malfoy?”

“Of course I do, you stupid bloody oaf!” But the other boy’s face wasn’t getting any less red.

“Right.” Ron couldn’t suppress the grin this time. “Well,” he made to stand up, “I’ll just leave you to it then…”

“Wait!”

Ron aborted his attempt to rise and, resisting the urge to speak, smirked up at a clearly deeply embarrassed Malfoy. He was determined not to make it easy for the cocky git and watched in amusement as the flustered blond became fascinated with looking at his own feet.

“Okay,” Malfoy at least had the good grace to sound chagrined. “So, I may have _momentarily_ forgotten exactly what it is I’m supposed to do…”

Narrowing his eyes as if in thought, Ron sat up again and nodded at the other boy. “Oh, okay. So you’ll probably remember…you know _momentarily_.” 

He stood up, pausing to dust down his jeans. “So, maybe I’ll see you down the pub later…” And he started to walk away.

This time he was halted by a hand on his arm. His stomach did a funny little flip. He turned to face Malfoy and realised with a hitched breath that he was now close enough to actually feel the warmth radiating from the other boy’s deepening blush.

“Please stay.”

Malfoy had raised his head and was looking at him with intense grey eyes. The hand on his arm loosened before trailing slowly down his forearm and brushing across the back of his hand.

“I don’t know how to do it.” 

Ron felt confused. He’d been teasing Malfoy in an attempt to get a rise out of him; he’d never actually expected the snarky bastard to really give a shit about deflating the bloody thing. God knows the blond had hardly been conscientious up to now. He was surprised the other boy had even stuck around; usually he buggered off as soon as he could and left Ron to do any clearing away. So why the sudden change now, Ron wondered?

“Why?”

It was Malfoy’s turn to look puzzled. “Why what?” he asked, frowning.

Ron sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “This,” he said, gesturing to the now half deflated slide and back to the castle. He turned to widen the sweep of his arm to encompass the rest of the park too. “All of it,” he added, turning slowly back to face Malfoy. He shrugged at the other boy. “Why are you even here, Draco?”

It was the first time that Ron had called him by his first name, and the look on Malfoy’s face showed that he knew it too.

Ron reached his hand out and rested it on the startled boy’s shoulder. “Why are you working here? We both know it isn’t for the money.” His smile hopefully took the sting out of the words.

Draco sighed loudly and then sat down heavily on the edge of the inflatable; he bounced comically a few times before coming to a stop, but Ron found he felt no urge to laugh. He sat down gently next to him and waited.

“My father.” Draco was looking at his hands where they rested on his legs. “He owns the park.”

It wasn't that much of a surprise, Ron had heard rumours.

Malfoy turned to face Ron. “I pissed him off one too many times, Weasley, and he decided a suitable punishment would be making me work here for six weeks.” 

“Oh.” Ron didn’t really know what else to say. There was something about the way Draco had said ‘father’ that made him feel suddenly irrationally angry but he didn't know why.

“If I fuck this up then…well…frankly, I’m fucked.” Draco turned desperate eyes to Ron. “And I don’t know if you’ve noticed but I’m really not very good with children.”

Ron snorted. “I hate to have to break this to you, Draco, but you’re actually pretty crap with adults too!”

All at once, Draco lost the forlorn look and broke out into his ridiculous braying laugh again.

And God help him, but Ron was even beginning to find that endearing. Clearly, he was doomed.

Ron grinned at Malfoy. “Hey, you still have four weeks left to dazzle Filch.” His grin widened at the sudden hopeful look in the other boy’s eyes. “And I’ll help.” He reached out his hand.

Draco looked at the outstretched hand and then back up at Ron; smiling he reached out to take the offered hand.

Ron’s stomach did that crazy little flip again. 

Oh, yeah. 

He was _so_ doomed.


End file.
